


Change My Ways

by ImNeitherNor



Series: Not A Fucking Charity Case [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adoptions, Basketball, Billy is trying, Billy needs his fire back, Character Growth, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Fluff, Emotions, Forced coming out, M/M, Mamabear Susan, Max Is Amazing, More tags as I go, Protective Steve, Sad Notes, Skateboards, Steve is a Saint, Tommy is an asshole, Ugly Sweaters, coupon books, smear the queer, steve is a goofball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNeitherNor/pseuds/ImNeitherNor
Summary: After the events in "Not a Fucking Charity Case," Billy tries to slide himself into whateverfamilyis. With Steve's help, he's able to feel like he belongs.This piece is the second half of NFCC, and it details Billy's and Steve's growth (as well as the Party and Susan).





	1. All I Want Is You

 

 

All I Want is You

 

            The knock on the door was light, but nonetheless, it had Billy’s heart pounding in his chest. He tried not to answer too quickly, nervous that it would show just how much he wanted to see him. Instead, he took his time getting to the door and opening it up. The cold air that wafted in made him shiver, but his lips split into a wide grin at the view in front of him.

 

            Steve had a few bags in his hands, but the Indiana boy still hated the cold. His jacket, thick and puffy, covered him almost to his knees. His scarf was stuffed around half of his face, leaving only his eyes and nose visible, but Steve being Steve—he wore no hat to preserve the coils of his hair. It would explain why the tips of his ears were red.

 

            “Merry Christmas,” As soon as Steve stepped inside, Billy reached out and took the bags from him. He set them down to the side, and no sooner had his hands left the handles were Steve’s palms on his cheeks. Billy almost protested because his hands were fucking _cold_ , but then Steve’s lips were on his. This was normal for Steve, especially when they were in places where they could relax and actually touch one another.

 

            That didn’t stop the frustrated groan from across the room, though.

 

            “Seriously,” Max huffed, “You two are gross, you know that, right?”

 

            Steve pulled away and rolled his eyes, “hello to you, too, twerp.”

 

            “Hello, Steve!” Susan called from the kitchen, and Billy looked away, his lips twitching as he fought a small smile. His and Susan’s relationship had been getting better, but what Billy loved most about it was her total acceptance of Steve. It was as if Steve had always been there, and although sometimes that fear he had before randomly reared its head, Billy knew it was unfounded. Those moments, though, were some of his hardest.

 

            “Billy,” Steve was looking at him and Billy _knew_ he had gone off in his head again. He pressed his lips together and Steve smiled gently. “Hey, come on. Let’s go see if she needs help. Maybe we can make cookies or something?”

 

            “You’d burn them,” Billy grinned and reached out. He untangled the scarf from Steve’s head as he scoffed. On the way to the kitchen, Billy threw the scarf at Max’s face. It hit dead-on and she sputtered, throwing up her middle finger.

 

            “Dick!”

 

            “Max!” Susan berated, “Watch your language, young lady! Billy, can you get the dough for me from the fridge? Steve, grab the cans out of the pantry, please?”

 

            Just like that, the kitchen became a well-oiled machine. Billy and Steve followed Susan’s instructions. Steve managed to not burn anything, which he proudly announced to Billy as all the preparations were being cleaned up and everything was cooking. Billy simply rolled his eyes at him, but there was a fond glimmer in his eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

 

            The smell of food permeated the house and Billy couldn’t remember the last Christmas that felt like this. He couldn’t place the smells, the laughter, the warmness in his stomach. It had been so unbearably long that part of him was terrified that this would end poorly—that he would mess it up in some way. Yet, as he sank onto the couch, his doubts faded away. Steve threw his legs over his lap, in the middle of a conversation with Max, and Susan was sipping her hot chocolate as she beamed at the three of them.

 

            Billy settled a hand on Steve’s leg. He had become somewhat more willing to touch, even in public places. He would wrap his hand just above Steve’s elbow or squeeze his shoulder. Hell, sometimes, when they met at that dingy little diner, Billy would reach over and squeeze Steve’s thigh. They were always light touches, but Steve understood that, when Billy touched him, there was always a thousand words behind it—words Billy found difficult to say.

 

            When Steve sat up a little more, Billy turned his head to look at him. He was about to say something, but the thought disappeared as Steve’s lips captured his. It didn’t take long for Billy to lean in, parting his lips to taste Steve, the remnants of pie filling still obviously there from the preparations earlier. He wasn’t a big fan of apple, but on Steve’s lips? It was delicious.

 

            “Ew, mom! They’re kissing _in front of me!_ ” Max pointed, but when Billy froze and tensed, she felt her skin go cold. For a moment, it seemed like Billy couldn’t breathe, his lips not even an inch from Steve’s and his eyes wide with sudden fear.

 

            Before Max could say anything, Susan rolled her eyes and leaned back into her chair.

 

            “Then look _away_ , honey,” She gestured her mug toward the television, which had been on and playing some sort of Christmas movie in the background.

 

            The tension released immediately. Billy began to laugh, out of relief or simple _joy_ from what just transpired, he wasn’t sure. It was hard not for Steve not to join in, but then he caught Susan’s ‘seriously, though?’ expression over Billy’s shoulder, his face turned red and he hid himself against Billy’s neck. Of course, then Max joined in on the laughter because Steve was _embarrassed_.

 

            Eventually, the four of them lulled into silence. While the television went on, Billy stroked Steve’s leg and watched. Although, his brain wasn’t on what was happening in the movie. No, he kept going back to Thanksgiving and the span of time between then and now. The difference that less than a month could make was astonishing to him. From being hospitalized and spitting mad to now? Sitting in a room with people he actually _cared about_? It was a whirlwind and Billy would have laughed at anyone who told him that his life would end up this way.

 

            Hell, the look on Sinclair’s face when he apologized, sincerely, about what had happened that night? Or the nights where he pulled in front of the kid’s house with Max in his passenger seat? When Lucas’s parents invited him in and they sat, awkwardly (Billy was mostly awkward), and had a conversation over a meal? That would have also not happened in Billy’s book. Out of everything so far that Billy had done, though, that had made Steve beam at him the most. Billy loved finding things that would make Steve look at him like that—like he was somehow his world.

 

            Billy still fought to believe that he deserved it. Those conversations were difficult. Steve _knew_ when his brain was headed that way, and always took his face in his hands and mumbled his name over and over as he kissed him anywhere he could. It left Billy breathless and unable to think, which he guessed was Steve’s goal, but he was always reassuring him that it was okay, that he was okay, that everything happening now was a result of him letting go of everything that had happened.

 

            _Who you are is okay_ is what Steve told him, repeatedly, especially on nights where Billy woke up panicking. If Steve wasn’t there, those nights were particularly rough, but seeing him at school the next day always helped. And somehow, Steve always knew.

 

            Billy apparently lost track of time. The buzzer in the kitchen went off, jarring him out of his thoughts.

 

            “I got it,” Billy eased Steve’s legs off his lap and stood before Susan could. That was something else that Billy had started doing. He helped around the house without being asked, and Susan always thanked him (no matter how many times he said ‘don’t worry about it’). He brushed his fingers over Steve’s shoulders as he walked by. When he got into the kitchen, he propped the stove open and grabbed the mitts. Getting the ham out was easy, but he had to ease the panic coiled deep inside his gut as he placed the large pan on the stove.

 

            The panic was unnecessary. He knew that. There was no reason to be scared of the damned stove. It wasn’t like _it_ threw him down and caused the burns. He flexed his hands and then froze as arms wrapped around his waist, a solid chest pressing into his back.

 

            “Hey, baby,” Steve murmured.

 

            “Hey…” Billy’s voice sounded strangled, and he hated that. Nothing was even _happening_.

 

            Steve pulled him back, away from the stove, and rest his chin on Billy’s shoulder.

 

            “Hey, Billy, what’re—ooh, you two are having a moment,” Max began to back out of the kitchen and then paused at Billy’s smile. She returned it hesitantly and then glanced at the table. “I guess we’re ready to set the table?”

 

            “Yeah, brat. We were. Wanna grab the serving things?”

 

            “ _Utensils_ ,” Max replied slowly.

 

            “Y’know. Shut it, Max,” Billy glared and Steve grinned as he moved away and began to take out the plates. Despite the back and forth between Max and Billy, the table was set and the four of them were settling down within minutes.

 

            “Hey, Billy,” Max had sat next to her brother, her eyes sparkling as she grinned at him. When Billy looked over, she plopped a large amount of potatoes on his plate and his eyebrows raised. “Eating contest?”

 

            “What does the winner get?” Billy asked, despite Steve’s protest and Susan’s groan.

           

            “Hm. Winner gets the last piece of pie,” Max grinned.

 

            “Yeah, because apple—“

 

            “Pecan pie, Billy,” Max’s grin turned devilish as she plopped mashed potatoes on her plate. Billy raised his eyebrows.

 

            “I’m beginning to doubt that we’re not related,” Billy muttered and then nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

 

            “On three, right?” Max picked up her spoon, ignoring that Steve buried his face into his hands and Susan began to eat her ham, as if this wasn’t happening at all.

 

            As soon as Max got to three, they were both devouring the potatoes. Susan was shaking her head and Steve was hiding his face. The noises were ridiculous, but neither of them wanted to put themselves between the siblings. That was like asking to be pulled into the ludicrous eating contest. It was just safer to sit back and let it happen, even if one of them got sick from it.

 

            When Steve finally dropped his hands, he looked at Susan and almost laughed at the exasperation on her face.

 

            “My children are animals, Steve,” Susan shook her head and paused at the choking noise coming from Billy. He had stopped eating, his eyes wide and surprised as he looked over at her. There was that flicker of disbelief in his eyes, of that hurt that was still buried, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

 

            “I win!” Max threw her hands in the air and laughed. “Sucks to be you!”

 

            Billy cleared his throat and looked over to Max, feigning disappointment. He pointedly ignored the warm smile on Steve’s face and the knowing look in his eyes.

 

            “You’re a little shit,” Billy shook his head and leaned back against his chair.

 

            “Mooom. Shouldn’t you be telling _him_ to watch his language?” Max glared at Billy, but it was obvious she was fighting a smile.

 

            “Right, right. Billy, watch your language, young man,” Susan smiled and Billy couldn’t help the little twitch of his own lips.

 

            “Not even fair,” Max muttered and sat up to put food on her plate that _wasn’t_ mashed potatoes. When she doesn’t put anything green down, Steve leaned over and plops a small amount of green beans on her plate with a ‘try me’ look.

 

            Susan almost started laughing, hiding her smile behind her glass as Max glowered at Steve.

 

            The rest of the meal was less exciting, with Billy and Max throwing random barbs at each other and Steve, at some point, gently kicking Billy’s shin. He smiled at the glare Billy shot him and continued to finish his plate. Eventually, they all left the table, mumbling about how they would clean it up as a group later.

 

            Max was the first to settle next to the tree, excitement clear on her face. Billy sat on the couch and watched as Steve squatted next to Max. Susan took a seat on the recliner, a soft smile on her face, and Billy wondered if this was how Christmas was _supposed_ to feel.

 

            “Okay, who’s first?” Steve glanced back and at Billy’s shrug, he sighed. “Great response, Hargrove. So intelligent.” He pushed himself up and carried a bag over to Billy. He dropped it onto his lap and grinned at the glare Billy sent him. “Open this one first.”

 

            Billy sat up more and looked up at Steve. He was going to tell him that he didn’t need to get him anything, that this was silly, but the look of excitement on Steve’s face had him biting back his thoughts. He eased the paper out of the bag and then pulled out a sweater that was clearly a size too big for him. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Steve.

 

            “You gotta wear it,” Steve mused and Billy blanched.

 

            “What? _No_ ,” Billy glared as Max burst into a fit of laughter. Susan was trying to hide how her smile grew as she took in the positively glaring piece of clothing.

 

            “Come on, Billy! Just today!” Steve settled his hands onto his hips and Billy wondered if this is how the kids felt around him.

 

            “No, I’m not—“

 

            “Billy, _please_ -“

 

            “Fucking no, Harr—“

 

            “Baby,” Steve reached out and pushed some of the curls away from Billy’s face and Billy _hated_ that look. His big, brown eyes stared down at him and his lips were set into a tiny frown. Fuck. He rubbed his face and grumbled out a ‘fine.’

 

            Five minutes later, Billy was slouched onto the floor next to Steve and Max, wearing the awful damned Christmas sweater as they passed out presents. He watched Max unwrap her new skateboard and refrained from smiling at her huge grin. Before they could say anything, Max was out of the house and on the concrete. Billy shook his head and chewed on his lower lip as he picked up a small box. It was for Steve, and his heart hammered in his chest as he pushed it into Steve’s hands.

 

            “This—uh, it’s not much,” Billy dropped his hands into his lap and silently thanked Susan for picking that moment to get up and go make herself more coffee. He watched as Steve unwrapped the tiny box before taking the top off.

 

            Inside, a key glittered under the lights on the Christmas tree. Billy tugged at the Christmas sweater, avoiding Steve’s eyes as he watched him take the key out and slide his fingers over the cool metal.

 

            “Is this a key to the…?” Steve looked over and watched as Billy fucking _blushed_.

 

            “Yeah. It’s to the Camaro. She’s… she’s a great drive, and I figure you’d like to try her out…” Billy gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He wouldn’t admit that this was important to him, that giving Steve a key to his car meant _more_ than just getting him into the driver’s seat.

 

            “I can’t drive stick,” Steve murmured and Billy couldn’t help but smile.

 

            “I’ll teach you, pretty boy,” Billy hesitated as Steve reached out and tangled his fingers into his blonde curls. He tugged Billy forward until their mouths met, and Billy sighed into Steve’s mouth. The key sat in Steve’s palm and it began to warm against his skin.

 

            “Thank you, Billy,” Steve leaned back and Billy cleared his throat as Susan wandered back in.

 

            “Yeah, no problem,” Billy sat back again. The Christmas sweater almost didn’t matter at that point, even if he was overly warm and hated everything about it (except that Steve gave it to him—he liked _that_ ).

 

            “Here,” Steve handed him a box and huffed at Billy’s look. “It’s not terrible, asshole. Just open it.”

 

            Billy still gave him a disbelieving look. After opening it, he turned the cassette over and over in his hands. He looked up at Steve and felt his stomach clench as if he was nervous. On the tape, Steve had written (messily) ‘SB Mix.’ The fact that he put their first initials together made Billy reel. It was such a simple thing, but to him? It was the world.

 

            “You have a terrible track record with music, Steve,” Billy’s voice wavered, though, and then he was grunting as Steve threw his arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

 

            “Do you two _ever_ stop touching each other?” Max stepped into the house, a waft of cold air following her. She shut the door and set the board to the side. Her cheeks and nose were red, but her eyes were bright and she was out of breath.

 

            “I like touching him,” Steve did untangle himself, though, and sat back. “Oh! Hey, Max. The little sh—uh, the guys wanted me to give this to you.” He pulled out another bag and handed it over.

 

            “Great. Probably a gag gift,” Max mumbled as she plopped down next to Billy. When her body leaned into Billy’s arm, he paused. His eyes dropped to her as she opened the gift and his lips twitched. Over the last month, they had gotten closer. It wasn’t perfect, no, but Max was a lot more relaxed around him, and she had started to touch him without that fear in her eyes. He hadn’t wanted to be like his father, so the fact that Max was leaning against him as she tore into a present? It meant more than whatever material item she could ever give him.

 

            “Oh, no way…” Max stared at the walkie talkie, her jaw falling slack.

 

            “I guess… it’s like an official welcome or something,” Steve shrugged, but the smile on his face gave away just how important it was from the small gang of pre-teens.

 

            “Yeah,” Max nodded. Her voice was firm but her eyes were wet. She clutched the walkie talkie and slumped further against Billy, sliding from his arm to his chest. Billy had to wrap an arm around her waist so she didn’t topple over. His eyes snapped to Steve who grinned and shrugged. Because Billy couldn’t hand out that last few gifts, Steve took the card from under the tree and handed it to Susan. The handwriting made it clear that it was from Billy, and her eyes found his after she held it in her hands (which, Billy noticed, were trembling).

 

            “It’s—you can open it later, if you’d like,” Billy knew he was asking her to do that, even if he technically didn’t actually ask. She nodded, though, and set it to the side.

 

            “I have something for you,” Susan smiled at him and Billy hesitated.

 

            “You didn’t—you didn’t have to-“

 

            “Nonsense, Billy. It’s something Max and I have talked about,” Susan stood and walked over to the group next to the tree. She settled down on the ground on Billy’s other side (which Steve had scooted away from, as if he _knew what was happening_ ).

 

            “Susan…?” Billy hated that he sounded so uncertain, but this was new to him. It was strange enough to have a Christmas like this, but Max in his arm? Susan at his side? Steve smiling that stupid warm smile that he did whenever he knew something was going to blow Billy’s mind? It was almost too much for him.

 

            “Can I tell him?” Max looked up from Billy’s side and Susan’s smile softened.

 

            “Sure, sweet heart,” She wasn’t sure she could do it without crying, anyway. She watched as Max tilted her head back to look at Billy.

 

            “I want you to be my _actual_ brother,” Max stated and Billy blinked.

 

            “What? I _am_ your brother-“

 

            “No, Billy. In name. I want you to be my brother in _name_ , too,” Max tugged at the ugly sweater and gave him a half-assed glare. “I want Billy Mayfield as my brother.”

 

            “Mayfield…?” Billy looked from Max to Susan and something clicked. “Susan—wait, are you—are you saying you want to…?”

 

            “I know you’re about to be eighteen. I know you’re about to graduate, but…” Susan reached out and slid her hand over Billy’s, which had begun to clench against his jeans. “I would love to have you as my _legal_ son. Not just my ‘I got married’ son.”

 

            “You want to adopt me,” Billy mumbled and the disbelief in his voice hurt something deep in Susan, kept her from pulling back.

 

            “Yes. I want to adopt you,” Susan waited, holding her breath as Billy stared at the Christmas tree. She knew that wasn’t what he was seeing, but she knew he needed a moment, if not several. Max had pushed herself as close as she physically could to Billy, literally draping herself on him as she waited for an answer, too.

 

            Eventually, Billy pulled himself together. He tried to ignore the erratic beating of his heart and the buzzing in his ears. However, the warmth that spread through him? That strange _wholeness_ he felt in his chest? He couldn’t ignore that.

 

            “Yeah. Yes. I want that.”

 

            Max sat up and all but catapulted herself forward, knocking Billy onto the floor. Billy heard Steve’s “woop!” in the background and a soft sob that he could only guess was Susan. With his face covered in red hair and his body shaking from too many emotions, he couldn’t bring himself to speak as Max’s small arms wrapped around him and squeezed.

 

~ ~

 

            Later that night, Steve sat on Billy’s bed, nervous energy making his leg bounce. As Billy settled next to him, he pushed a small, messily wrapped gift into Billy’s hands. It hadn’t been under the tree because Steve wanted this to be between them.

 

            “Stop giving me that look and open it,” Steve mumbled. Billy’s eyes were red-rimmed and his face was still a tad flushed from earlier, but he had gotten his wits about him and Steve had tugged him toward his room. Susan had let them, still composing herself. Max had turned the radio on and the chatter from the other kids had been loud in the tiny house—Billy’s _home_.

 

            “You’re pushy, you know that?” Billy opened it, anyway, and paused. It looked like a small booklet, held together by industrial grade staples. Each little piece of paper was made of construction paper and as he flipped through them, he saw Steve’s messy handwriting.

 

            “They’re uh—they’re coupons,” Steve mumbled, his cheeks turning a nice shade of red as Billy flipped through the first few.

 

            “Coupons…?” Billy looked over at Steve and then back down at the booklet. After reading a couple, his eyes widened and his lips parted. _Oh_.

 

            “Yeah. You can use them whenever you like,” Steve grinned sheepishly and reached out to lace their fingers together.

 

            “I’m not so sure this was a good idea for you, Steve,” Billy almost purred, and Steve _knew_ that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

~ ~

 

_Susan,_

_I’m not so great at words. In fact, I really suck at them. I know I haven’t been the best, that I’ve been… shitty. But I’ve been thinking a lot. And I wanted to let you know. That I… I forgive you, okay?_

_I forgive you._

_-Billy_

 


	2. Pitfalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy doesn't know when to shut up.
> 
> Billy is terrified of his feelings.
> 
> Max is a beast.
> 
> Steve is... well, Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to: @SSTrashBarge - Thank you, you gorgeous, beautiful human being for your encouragement and love.

Pitfalls

 

 

            Sometimes, Steve knows when he’s fucked up. It doesn’t matter how many nights he spent curled around Billy, words of encouragement in his ear. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s brushed his fingers down Billy’s spine and praised him about his skills on the court. It doesn’t even matter when he’s made jokes about how Billy used to taunt him about planting his damned feet.

 

            It didn’t matter because, right now? Billy looked like he was struggling between controlling his emotions and having a meltdown. No one else caught it because they didn’t _know_ how to read Billy Hargrove. Steve did and the sour taste in his mouth told him that, perhaps, pushing Billy to try out for basketball was the wrong move. Sure, Billy was cutting it up, taking shots and stealing the ball, but the shirt that stuck his skin with sweat was wrong. The frantic, sometimes jerky movements when other players touched him reminded Steve of how antsy Billy was after his hospital stay.

 

            Even if Billy was still phenomenal with the ball, he had lost the fire in his eyes and his love for the game.

 

            It wasn’t until Tommy shoulder checked Steve hard enough to send him to the ground that he saw that spitting blaze in Billy again. While their relationship was definitely secret, the fact that they were _okay_ with each other wasn’t. Steve figured it rattled Tommy and he got sick pleasure knowing that, but it had also led to nasty comments and snide remarks from the asshole.

 

            “The fuck you playing at, Tommy boy?” Billy crowded Tommy and Steve knew that the only reason he did it was to give him enough space to breathe and collect himself. The coach was yelling something, but neither boy seemed to hear it. Steve hopped up from the ground before Billy could become angrier and slid an arm between them.

 

            “It’s good. We’re good,” Steve let his arm brush Billy’s chest. It wasn’t enough touch to alarm anyone, but Billy would understand that it was fine—Steve was fine.

 

            “Are we?” Tommy sneered and then looked over as the coach yelled again. He shot a glance Steve’s way before stomping off.

 

            “He acts like a jealous girlfriend,” Steve mumbled beneath his breath and when a burst of laughter left Billy, he smiled a little.

 

            Tommy’s nastiness followed them to the showers. Steve and Billy were already in the process of getting clean when he stepped into the showers. A low whistle brought both of their attention to him. Steve pressed his lips in a thin line and Billy’s expression shifted from calculating to bored.

 

            “Damn, Hargrove. Now I know why you wore a shirt. I _heard_ about what happened with your old man. You know, small town and shit, but _damn_.” Tommy grinned, obviously striking a chord. Billy’s hands had frozen in his hair and his eyes had opened despite the soap streaming down his face. He stared at Tommy and the muscle in his jaw ticked.

 

            Steve shifted on his feet. He didn’t say anything because it wasn’t his place. He was used to Billy standing up for himself. Hell, he was ready to have to pull Billy off Tommy, to hear another lecture from the coach about respecting each other as players _and_ individuals. He tried to act nonchalant, tried to keep his eyes closed as he washed the soap out of his hair.

 

            “Who knew Billy Hargrove had daddy issues, of all things?”

 

            Steve’s eyes popped open and his jaw fell slack. He turned and was ready to grab Billy, to keep him from pummeling Tommy, but he didn’t need to. He watched, instead, as Billy’s eyes fell flat and his lips pressed together. His whole demeanor changed, and Steve knew Billy didn’t even realize he was doing it. He curled in on himself, backed up a step, and Steve heard the choked breath before he saw red.

 

            Tommy hit the shower wall just as hard as Steve’s fist hit his jaw. He pulled his arm back and shook his hand in the air, but the pain in his knuckles felt good. He scowled at Tommy and couldn’t give a fuck if they were naked. He leaned in close, slapping his hands on the wall beside Tommy’s head, his breath ragged as he cornered the other teen in the shower.

 

            “That’s none of your fucking business,” Steve felt the roar of anger in his blood and suddenly he felt like _King Fucking Steve_ again. He leaned in closer and curled his lips in a sneer. “Do we have an understanding, Tommy?”

 

            When Tommy didn’t respond, Steve grabbed his jaw and smacked his head against the shower wall.

 

            “Do we?” Steve repeated.

 

            “Jesus fucking Christ. Okay. Fine,” Tommy was scowling at him, but Steve didn’t care. He eased away and shoved Tommy’s head to the side as he turned back to the running water.

 

            “Who knew what kind of jealous boyfriend you could be, _Steve_ ,” Tommy hissed out, “Protecting your bitch and all. Probably why Nancy left you.”

 

            This time, Steve _did_ have to hold Billy back. The stockier teen had lunged forward, but Steve managed to catch him around his arm. He struggled with Billy until he had him against the shower wall, his back pressed against the cold tiles. They were both panting at that point and Steve looked over his shoulder, his eyes burning as he stared at Tommy.

 

            “Get the fuck out or coach will have to be writing a fucking eulogy,” Steve spat and winced as Billy jerked underneath him. “ _Get out_ , Tommy.”

 

            It must have been something in Steve’s voice because the teen stumbled out without further encouragement. Steve turned back to Billy, who he just now realized was crying _and_ furious.

 

            “Breathe for me,” Steve murmured, his voice low. “You’re going to pass out, Billy. Breathe.” He didn’t even think Billy _knew_ he was hyperventilating at that point. Steve kept him caged against the wall with his arms, and as he slowly caught his breath, Steve relaxed. He pulled some of the wet, blonde curls from his face and tucked them behind Billy’s ear.

 

            “You good now?” Steve searched Billy’s eyes to make sure that he was _there_ with him, and once they made eye contact and Billy nodded, he stepped back. “Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

~ ~

 

            By the time Steve and Billy walked out toward their cars, Billy seemed to have calmed down. At least, he _looked_ calm. Steve kept glancing over to read his movements, to look at the way his eyes flickered or how his fingers curled. Billy’s body would always give him away before his mouth ever did.

 

            “You can stop,” Billy muttered and Steve frowned.

 

            “Stop what?”

 

            “I’m not… going to break, Steve,” Billy avoided Steve’s eyes and clamped down on his cheek with his teeth.

 

            “I didn’t say you would,” Steve furrowed his brows and paused outside the BMW. The Camaro sat next to it.

 

            “You don’t have to _say_ ,” Billy insisted, his voice becoming defensive. “You just _act_. You watch me and you’re always fucking acting like I’m going to shatter. I’m not.”

 

            “I know you’re not, I just…” Steve trailed off.

 

            “Then _stop_ ,” Billy yanked the driver’s door of the Camaro open. “Stop fucking acting like that. I went years without you. It’s not like I’ll just fucking _break_ , Harrington.” He climbed into the Camaro and slammed the door.

 

            The explosion of pain in Steve’s chest made his eyes sting. He leaned against the door of his BMW and shuddered as the Camaro swept out of the lot.

 

~ ~

 

            By the time Billy pulled up next to the house, his chest hurt and his eyes were wet. He swiped at his cheeks before yanking the e-brake. He couldn’t handle Steve, but it wasn’t even _Steve_. It was whatever was coiling in Billy’s gut. Recently, whenever Steve looked at him, warmth blossomed in his body and spread all the way to his fingertips. His heart fluttered, and for fuck’s sake, he _blushed_ at stupid things Steve said or did.

 

            The fact that Steve had such a pull on his emotions terrified him, and when Billy was terrified? He lashed out. Billy sank further down into his seat and squeezed his eyes shut. He had left Steve in the school parking lot, confused and probably hurt. Most definitely hurt. Billy rubbed his palms over his face and felt the wash of guilt soak deep into his bones.

 

            When there was a knock on the window, Billy jerked. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there. He dropped his hands and looked over. Max was watching him, her lips set in a frown and her brows furrowed. His shoulders sagged and he yanked his key from the ignition. He would have to face the world at some point, and Max wasn’t nearly as terrifying to him as Steve was.

 

            “What’re you doing?” Max stepped back as Billy climbed out of the car. He shut the door and shook his head. Despite his protests, though, Max stuck at his side and followed him inside. “Billy. You look like shit. What happened? Where’s Steve?”

 

            Of course, Max had gotten used to them being together. That was even more telling.

 

            “Billy, what did you do?” Ah, there it was.

 

            “Why is it always _my_ fault?” Billy snapped and Max rolled her eyes.

 

            “Because if it was Steve’s, he’d be here apologizing already, and you’re already defensive! That’s why!”

 

            Sometimes, Billy hated how smart Max was. He paused as he opened the door to the house and ran his fingers through his hair.

 

            “I fucked up, Max.”

 

            “Okay,” Max hesitated, clearly thrown off that Billy _admitted_ to it. He continued to walk inside and Max followed. As he sat down on the couch, she plopped down right next to him.

 

            “You know there’s a whole extra seat,” Billy groused and sighed as she smiled at him. Sometimes, Max was also infuriating.

 

            “So, how did you fuck up?” Max sat back and made herself comfortable, clearly intent on hearing all of the great, juicy details of his fucking relationship.

 

            “I told Steve to stop watching me,” Billy shrugged and glanced away before he could catch Max’s glare.

 

            “You _what_?”

 

            “He’s always looking at me! Always fucking checking on me like I’m going to fucking… _break_ or something.”

 

            “He _cares_ about you,” Max let out an aggravated sigh and Billy wanted to shove her off the couch. “That’s how Steve _knows_ you’re okay. Do you ever actually talk to him?”

 

            “Well, I don’t—“

 

            “Billy. Do you _talk_ to Steve?”

 

            “No… Not like… About…” Billy stuttered and fell silent.

 

            “So, all he knows is that he has to watch to figure out your next move. It’s what I’ve done for years,” Max shrugged and glared again. “And you yelled at him for it.”

 

            Billy opened his mouth and then closed it. Fuck.

 

            “Yeah. Not your brightest moment, brother,” Max shook her head and patted his arm. “You may want to call him, though. Knowing Steve? He’s probably freaking the hell out.”

 

            Billy dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He knew he had fucked up when he had pulled away from Steve. He had looked in the rearview mirror and hated the way Steve’s shoulders had slumped and his head was tilted down.

 

            “Do I have to drag you over to the phone, Billy?” Max stood off the couch, but before she could grab him, Billy was up and stumbling into the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and followed, and Billy was _sure_ it was to basically babysit him while he made the damned phone call.

 

            Billy shot Max a glare over his shoulder as he picked up the phone and dialed Steve’s number. He ignored the blush that settled on his cheeks from knowing it by heart and turned his back so he could have _some_ privacy from his sister.

 

~ ~

 

            Steve _was_ a fucking mess. He had felt numb his entire way home and it wasn’t until he had sat down to eat leftovers that he realized just how upset he was. It wasn’t the manliest crying he had done in his life over a plate of food, but he had done it. His thoughts had been everywhere as he tried to pinpoint what had set Billy off. Sure, Steve had punched Tommy around, but that shouldn’t have done it, right? Maybe Billy was angry at something he had done before?

 

            But no matter what Steve combed through, he couldn’t figure it out.

 

            The phone scared the shit out of him when it rang. He dropped his fork and winced at the clattering it made against the plate. It took him a moment to collect himself before he pushed himself up and pulled the phone off the receiver.

 

            “Harrington residence.”

 

            There was a long pause and Steve wondered if it was some type of fucking prank.

 

            “Look, I’m really not in the mood—“

 

            “I’m sorry,” Billy’s voice was so damned soft that Steve almost didn’t hear him.

 

            “Billy? Oh, thank god. Baby—“

 

            “Did you apologize!?” Steve blinked, surprised by the sound of Max’s voice in the background.

 

            “Yes, for fuck’s sake,” Billy sounded furious and it made Steve laugh. Yet, at the end of his laughter, his breath hitched and tears stung at his eyes again.

 

            “I’m sorry,” Billy repeated to him and Steve wanted to melt into the damned floor.

 

            “It’s okay,” Steve murmured and tightened his grip on the phone.

 

            “No, it’s not. It’s not fucking okay. I—I’ll try to be better. I promise. I’m trying. I…”

 

            “You wanna come over?” Steve interrupted him. He knew he did, but he didn’t care. “My parents aren’t here. We can… I dunno, we can watch a movie or something.”

 

            There was a long moment of silence before Billy responded.

 

            “Yeah, Steve. I’d love that. I’ll be over in thirty, yeah?”

 

            “Bring the coupon book,” Steve murmured and he could _hear_ the choked noise Billy made. “See you in thirty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Next chapter: Billy takes advantage of one of his coupons.


	3. You & I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy uses one of his coupons.
> 
> Steve didn't think he'd get anything in return.
> 
> He does.

You & I

 

 

 

            “You want me to… to what?”

 

            “I want you to fuck me.”

 

            “I—okay? Uhm.”

 

            “Stop looking at me like that, Steve. I want you to fuck me, not marry me.”

 

            “Sorry, I just. Holy fuck.”

 

            “Please, don’t cream your pants. I’d rather you do that in me.”

 

            “Oh, _fuck_.”

 

            When Billy had arrived at Steve’s place with his chosen coupon, this was _not_ what he had expected. They sat with their hips touching on the couch, Billy’s fingers holding the slip of paper and Steve still trying to gather his thoughts. It was like getting smacked with his bat. He was surprised he wasn’t on the ground, reeling from shock.

 

            “If you don’t want—“

 

            “No! No, I definitely… I wanna fuck you,” Steve mumbled the last part and glared at Billy as he laughed.

 

            “Then what’re you waiting on, pretty boy?”

 

            “I want you in my bed,” Steve pushed himself up from the couch and reached down to grab Billy’s hand. He didn’t object as Steve pulled him up and dragged him toward the stairs.

 

            “Are you going to romance me, Harrington?” Billy teased as Steve all but hauled him to his bedroom.

 

            “Maybe. Probably,” Steve turned and grasped Billy’s cheeks. His thumbs ran over the skin just below his eyes, and he watched that flash of surprise in Billy’s eyes. It didn’t matter how gentle or kind Steve was, his actions, so pure and affectionate, always coaxed out reactions from Billy. Sometimes, it wrecked Steve’s heart. The surprise shouldn’t be there and it _always was_ , no matter how many times he kissed away tears or held him after a panic attack.

 

            “Sap,” Billy murmured. Steve couldn’t help but smile. He leaned in and pressed their lips together, and as Billy parted his, he took immediate advantage and began exploring his mouth.

 

            “Always,” Steve laughed and eased Billy backward until the back of his knees caught the bed and he fell back onto it. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He watched as Billy’s cheeks flared and his brows furrowed.

 

            “I’m not the pretty boy here,” Billy snorted. “Stop lying.”

 

            “You asked if I was going to romance you. I am,” Steve threw him a grin and made a hand motion for Billy to scoot back onto the bed. He did, and Steve marveled in the fact that he could tell Billy Hargrove to move, to situate himself, and he _would_. It wasn’t that long ago that they were throwing blows—before Thanksgiving, before he found Billy on the side of the road, drunk and bloody and _furious_.

 

            Before Steve had sat in the chair next to Billy’s hospital bed, his eyes on the blisters and discolored skin from the burn Neil had caused.

 

            Now, with Billy on his bed, his legs parted and his eyes focused on him like a damned hawk, Steve found it hard to breathe. Even though he was about to fuck him, about to take him apart, he still felt like _he_ was the one on the receiving end.

 

            “Are you just going to stand there and gape at me?” Billy raised an eyebrow and Steve snapped his mouth shut. It was hard to function when his brain kept reminding him that he was about to _fuck Billy_. Jesus Christ.

 

            “Undress?” Steve wanted it to sound like a command, but it came out more like a suggestion. He swallowed and watched Billy laugh. It wasn’t malicious. It sounded more amused than anything else, but he did. Steve watched Billy pull his t-shirt up and over his head. His jeans and socks followed, and then Billy was sprawled back out again, but this time, he was completely bare. Steve took him in—from the golden curls that fell against his own pillow to his blue eyes, his pink lips, his earring, the expanse of his chest, his stomach. _Fuck_.

 

            Instead of talking, Steve climbed onto the bed and slid his hand over Billy’s thigh. He felt the muscle twitch and tense before relaxing again. Billy was nervous. He may not show it in his face or his words, but his body gave it away. Steve kissed a line along his stomach, up his chest, stopping to drag his tongue over one of his nipples. The hitched breath made him grin and he leaned back just enough to blow over the wet skin.

 

            “ _Steve_ ,” Billy pulled away and shoved at Steve’s shoulder, who laughed and pinched Billy’s side.

 

            “Not fair. You can do whatever you want to me, but I can’t play?” Steve raised an eyebrow and then leaned down again to kiss along Billy’s neck and throat. He didn’t get a response, but he was okay with that. As he closed his lips over the skin of Billy’s throat and sucked, his cock twitched at the quiet moan.

 

            “ _Lube_ ,” Billy pressed at Steve’s chest. It was obvious he was becoming impatient, like he always was, and Steve didn’t feel like giving in this time.

 

            “Not yet,” Steve pushed Billy’s legs apart and settled between them. Those blue eyes were watching him and the predatory-like gaze was diluted by uncertainty. “Just trust me, Billy. Trust me.” He leaned down and pressed kisses along his stomach again until his cheek brushed his cock. His eyes flickered up, catching Billy’s as he slid his tongue from the base of his cock to the tip. Billy’s stomach clenched, those defined muscles shuddering under the skin. Steve felt breathless already. He wrapped his hand around Billy’s cock and closed his lips around the head. He sucked earnestly and didn’t mind when Billy’s hips twitched forward, when his thighs clenched and his breath hitched.

 

            Slowly, Steve’s hand crept down Billy’s cock, replaced by his mouth. He took in as much as he could, until Billy’s cock brushed the back of his throat. It almost made Steve gag, but he didn’t, and maybe he shouldn’t have been as excited about it as he was, but _fuck_ could Billy take a cock down his throat. He wanted to drive Billy just as insane as he did Steve. He brushed his fingers over Billy’s balls and then gently cupped them as he swallowed and sucked.

 

            Billy’s hands fisted the sheets and tugged in a clear attempt not to roll his hips up, to take advantage of Steve’s mouth. He noticed how Billy’s breaths were coming quicker now--how they stuttered when he licked along the bottom of his shaft or swirled his tongue around the head. He can feel Billy pulse against his tongue. He can feel him twitch against the roof of his mouth.

 

            No matter how hard Steve sucked or how far he took Billy’s cock into his throat, he didn’t moan. Billy was always quiet, always restrained, _held back_. He kept his shoulders taut and his eyes focused whenever he was ruining Steve. Even afterward, when they were both spent and Billy had Steve tucked against his chest, his muscles would still be tense until he finally fell asleep.

 

            Even asleep, Billy would sometimes flinch or tighten his hold around Steve’s waist. Steve had his own nightmares. He knew what it was like, and on days where he woke up and Billy didn’t look like he’d slept, he knew his own version of monsters chased him in his sleep.

 

            Steve wanted to render Billy so completely and utterly mindless that even his dreams couldn’t keep up.

 

            Slowly, Steve pulled his mouth up. With a wet pop, he let go of Billy’s cock and pressed a kiss to his stomach. Steve hadn’t been known as “King” for nothing, and the girls didn’t fall over him just because of his looks. He eased himself to the side and pulled open the nightstand. After he grabbed the lube, Steve sat back on his haunches and grinned at Billy.

 

            “Spread for me, baby,” Steve murmured. When Billy did, his cock twitched behind his jeans and his stomach burned. It was one thing to be underneath Billy, to watch him move. It was another to see his knees out, his thighs parted. The expanse of tan skin was mouth-watering. He popped the bottle open and leaned over to kiss the inside of Billy’s left knee.

 

            “Can’t… can’t you just fuck me?” Billy groused and Steve laughed.

 

            “No. You used your coupon. You told me to fuck you. I’m going to, but I’m going to do it _my way_ ,” Steve soaked three fingers in lube. He knew what it felt like to have Billy’s fingers inside of him, to feel them push into his prostate, to have his body arch of its own accord. He looked over Billy again and imagined _his_ body arched and writhing. _Fuck_.

 

            Steve slid his knees down on the bed, leaned down, and licked a stripe from the base of Billy’s cock to the tip. As he pressed a kiss to the head and swiped the pre-cum from the slit, he eased his fingers between the globes of his ass and rubbed his index finger over his hole. There was a sharp intake of breath and Steve moved his other hand to the base of his cock. He began to stroke, but the movement was light, just enough to garner attention while his finger continued to prod and swipe across him before finally sinking in.

 

            “Trust me,” Steve murmured against the skin of Billy’s stomach. His muscles were tight, his abs constricting and releasing every few seconds as Steve worked his finger all the way to his palm.

 

            “I—I trust you—“ Billy gasped out and Steve closed his eyes. Billy, who trusted absolutely _no one_ , who had a fight or flight response (often leaning toward fight), trusted Steve. That alone was better than this, better than anything they could do physically, but Steve knew not to comment or push him.

 

            “Relax,” Steve murmured and tightened his grip on Billy’s cock. He swept his thumb over the slit and then began to move his finger. Billy was tight— _so fucking tight_. He would have to work him open slowly and Steve was _not_ complaining about that. He shifted his wrist so he could swirl his finger in a circular motion, touching everywhere and yet not deep enough. He knew whenever he brushed close to Billy’s prostate, though, because Billy would arch and kick his hips down. He’d gasp and tighten his grip on the sheets.

 

            Steve stopped stroking Billy and reached out to grab one of his hands. Billy immediately let go of the sheet and let Steve guide his hand to his face. Steve turned his head and kissed his palm and then the ring on his middle finger before encouraging Billy to hold onto his hair. Those talented fingers sank against his scalp and curled, and Steve’s own breath hitched.

 

            He returned his hand and mouth to Billy’s cock, and this time he made sure to dip his mouth over as much as he possibly could. He sucked and would have smirked at how Billy’s thighs twitched hard enough that he could feel it around his finger. While Billy was preoccupied with being sucked, he slid his index finger almost all the way out and nudged his middle finger against the first. Slowly, and while he ran his tongue over the slit of Billy’s cock, he pushed the two fingers in. He heard Billy swear, a gasped-out noise that made a wave of heat crash over his body.

 

            As Steve sank his fingers into his body, Billy’s hand tightened in his hair. He wrapped his mouth around the head of Billy’s cock again and sucked as his fingers curled just at the ends before he straightened them and slid almost all the way out. Billy kicked his hips up and Steve huffed out a breath through his nose as he sank his fingers back in. When his palm touched Billy’s ass, he crooked the ends of his fingers and dragged them half way out before spreading them apart.

 

            And there it was—Billy made a sharp, gasping sound. His back suddenly arched from the bed and his hips pivoted down onto Steve’s fingers. Knowing he found what he was looking for, Steve dragged his fingers over that spot, almost relentlessly, cruelly, until Billy was squirming and pulling and pushing his hips. The hand in Steve’s hair had tightened almost painfully, but Steve ignored it, his lips and tongue still working Billy’s cock while his fingers took him apart.

 

            Right when Billy started to show signs of his orgasm, when his thighs tightened, his breath hitched, and his stomach muscles clenched, Steve pulled back. He slid his fingers from Billy’s body and popped his lips off his cock. Billy actually _whined_ , uncharacteristically high-pitched and desperate with an undertone of disbelief.

 

            “Wha— _Steve_ —how— _why_?” Billy’s inability to string a sentence together made Steve grin.

 

            “I told you. We’re doing this my way,” Steve massaged his index finger over Billy’s hole and watched how his spine arched, how his hips dropped and pushed, desperate for that pleasure again.

 

            “I was about to—you _asshole_ —” Billy’s cussing was swallowed by Steve’s mouth, their lips pressed together in a mess of tongue and teeth. They kissed for a couple of minutes at least, enough for the edge of Billy’s orgasm to dissipate, even if it left him keyed up and _wanting_. Billy dropped his hand from Steve’s hair to the bed and fisted the sheets again.

 

            “I couldn’t tell,” Steve murmured against his mouth. He leaned back and looked Billy over. His pupils were blown out, swallowing most of the ice-blue. The pink on his cheeks and the wet streak on his lips made Steve’s cock pulse. His goal was to take Billy apart, and he’d stick with that, no matter how much he wanted to just fuck him.

 

            “Liar,” Billy rocked his hips against Steve’s finger again and he gave in, pushing in a single digit. He sank all the way in so that his palm cupped Billy’s ass again. He pulled his hand back and nudged the second finger in. Once he sank them both in, he curled his fingers and immediately found Billy’s prostate again. Billy’s head dropped back and his lips parted.

 

            “Fuck yourself on my fingers, Billy,” Steve murmured. He watched as the pink tint from Billy’s cheeks spread to his neck and chest. Billy’s cock twitched and pre-cum dripped onto his stomach. Steve was expecting a nasty response, a sneer, but instead, that tight heat clenched and Billy began to move his hips. Billy’s chest rose and fell in jagged breaths, eyes closed tightly as he worked himself on Steve’s fingers.

 

            Steve could have creamed his pants. He was surprised he didn’t.

 

            “This… Is this— _ah_ \--why they called… you— _oh, fuck_ \--king?” Billy was finally starting to let go and Steve couldn’t help but feel triumphant. All he had to do was crook his fingers or slide them a certain way while Billy ground his hips down, and Billy would curse or whimper or _moan_. Steve had thought about fucking Billy before. He had thought about how he would look, ruined and sated, but he had never touched on the subject with him. It wasn’t something Steve had thought would happen.

 

            Steve’s fantasies were _bullshit_ compared to the real thing, and for once, he was okay with something being _bullshit_.

 

            “Maybe,” Steve laughed and eased his fingers out of Billy again just after digging into that sensitive bundle of nerves. Billy whimpered again and then _growled_ out of frustration.

 

            “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t fu—”

 

            “Calm down,” Steve stifled his laughter and eased back. “I am, I am. Just… relax, Billy. You have your way of fucking. I have… _mine_.”

 

            “You’re not even _naked_ ,” Billy scowled at him and Steve… well, Steve thought it was fucking _sexy_ to have Billy riled up and angry on his bed, ready to be fucked and pissed that it wasn’t happening yet.

 

            “Patience is a virtue,” Steve climbed off the bed and tugged his polo up and over his head. He dropped it off to the side and did the same with his jeans and his briefs. The burn of Billy’s eyes on him was unmistakable, but he didn’t rush. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around his own cock and stroked. His gaze fell on Billy and his tongue slid over his lower lip as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the wet tip. He heard Billy’s intake of breath, his groan of frustration.

 

            “ _Steve_ ,” Billy parted his thighs further, spreading his legs almost obscenely, “Please come here…?”

 

            Who knew a word like _please_ coming out of Billy Hargrove’s mouth could make a person stop breathing?

 

            Steve made his way back to the bed and climbed in between Billy’s thighs. He grabbed the bottle of lube, flipped the top up, and poured a decent amount into his palm. As soon as the cold gel hit his cock, he flinched.

 

            “Karma,” Billy half-sang and then yelped as Steve smacked his thigh. “ _Asshole_.”

 

            “Better watch what you say. You may never get fucked at this rate,” Steve wiped the excess lube on the comforter and then slid his hand under Billy’s right thigh. He moved his palm to Billy’s knee and then leaned forward. It forced Billy’s knee toward his waist, spreading the globes of his ass apart. He grinned down at Billy, who had gone uncharacteristically quiet. All Steve could hear was his rocky breaths. “Hold your knee here, okay?”

 

            Billy reached and replaced Steve’s hand with his own, and _fuck_ , that was hot. Steve settled back again and ran his palm over Billy’s left thigh. He tipped that leg up, too, but held it himself. There was something about Billy helping Steve open him up, keeping him spread, that made his body overheat. He wrapped his free hand around the base of his cock and nudged the head against Billy’s hole. His eyes flickered up to watch and gauge Billy’s reactions as he sank forward.

 

            Each small push felt overwhelming for Steve. He barely had the head of his cock passed the tight ring and he was already having issues with self-control. Billy was _tight_. He was unbearably hot and it left Steve speechless. He dug his fingers into Billy’s thigh and paused. Billy panted and he could see the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth together.

 

            “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Steve leaned forward and brushed a few wet curls away from Billy’s face. Those blue eyes opened, glazed and wet, and Steve was tempted to stop.

 

            “I’m okay,” Billy’s voice wasn’t as strained as Steve expected it to be. Instead, it seemed reverent—awed. “Keep going—keep— _please_ —”

 

            Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say, so instead, he sank further into the tight heat below him. Billy arched his back and moaned, his eyes snapping closed again. Encouraged, Steve continued to budge, bit by bit, until he was bottomed out and completely inside of him. Billy whimpered in between gasps and Steve tried to stay still. It was hard with the noises Billy made, with how his body clenched so tightly around him.

 

            Not for the first time, Steve wished he knew what was going on Billy’s head. He didn’t want to move until Billy was comfortable, until he was sure that it wouldn’t hurt him. Yet, Steve also knew that Billy wouldn’t tell him if he was in any discomfort. He would agree that he was ready and would allow Steve to move, even if it stung or burned. That wasn’t what this was about.

 

            “Billy,” Steve settled his right hand on the bed and used it as leverage so he could kiss a line from Billy’s ear to his lips. He kissed him lightly, even if all Billy did was moan into his mouth. “Touch yourself for me. You can do that, right?” He bit Billy’s lower lip and groaned as those muscles spasmed around his cock. Either Billy liked being talked to or he liked being bitten—probably both, considering who he was.

 

            Billy’s cock was trapped between their stomachs, lying heavy and weeping against Billy’s abs. Steve felt Billy’s fingers slide against his stomach and then curl around himself. It was probably awkward, considering Billy was left handed and Steve had forced him to hold his knee with that one, but Steve didn’t care. The important part was that Billy was moaning again and his hips were beginning to move, that tight heat pulling and pushing over his own cock.

 

            “Oh, damn,” Steve breathed. He pushed himself back enough that he could watch Billy stroke himself, albeit clumsily. “Open your eyes…” When Billy did, Steve bit his lower lip. He was bottomed out in Billy, the tight, pink muscle stretched over his cock, Billy was stroking himself, and his eyes were on Steve. _This_ was amazing. Beyond amazing. Every line of Billy’s body was curved or taut in pleasure, his lips parted so he could suck in breaths of air whenever it became too much.

 

            It was almost too much for Steve.

 

            Steve pulled his hips back slowly while he refused to break eye contact with Billy. He pushed in, agonizingly slow, and groaned. Billy arched beneath him again and his hand faltered. Steve thrust again, experimenting with the slow pace until Billy was squirming, his noises reaching a pitch in volume that Steve didn’t think was possible with him. As soon as Billy began to close his eyes again, Steve stopped and squeezed his thigh.

 

            “Keep your eyes open,” Steve smiled as Billy’s eyelids fluttered open again. “And keep touching yourself for me.”

 

            The pace quickened then, Steve’s hips pulling back before snapping forward. He watched each movement Billy made and listened to each gasp and moan. It wasn’t until he shifted to the left and pushed in particularly deep that Billy cried out, the noise ripped from him without any warning. His hips jerked down, his hand freezing over his cock as his whole body twitched with the sudden shock of pleasure.

 

            “F-fuck, Steve, wha—” Billy’s words turned into unintelligible noises as Steve drove into him again at that same angle. He could feel each jolt of pleasure through the way Billy tightened around him and how his thighs trembled. The third time he drove into that spot, Billy’s cry was louder than the first.

 

            At this point, Steve didn’t ask him to keep his eyes open. He could tell by the way Billy twisted and tossed his head back that he was falling apart, that what Steve was doing was making him lose his mind. He had planned on this to be longer, to take a while, but he wanted to see Billy come. He wanted to see him riveted with pleasure. First, though, he wanted to _hear_ him.

 

            “Billy, sweetheart,” Steve slowed his thrusts and shivered as Billy whimpered. “Hey, look at me?” Again, those blue eyes were open and on him. They weren’t focused, though, and he knew Billy was having issues concentrating as Steve continued to _drag_ his cock through him—not thrusting—only budging enough for there to be friction. “What do you want?”

 

            Confusion and then realization flashed over Billy’s face. He moaned and tipped his head back. His body strained, his hips pushing down against Steve. It was clear that talking wasn’t something Billy did. It was hard for him, and Steve knew that, but he was desperate to hear anything out of the other teen. If Billy would only ask to be fucked, to tell him how good it felt, to call him something and then demand more. Steve just wanted to hear his voice.

 

            “Please?” Steve leaned down and punctuated his plea with a sharp thrust. Billy whined and finally let go of his knee. His hand fell to the comforter and fisted it while his leg wrapped around Steve’s hip and pulled.

 

            “I…” It was hard for Billy to talk while he panted. He was still trying to draw Steve in, to get him to move again while he squirmed. “I want _you_ , Steve. I want you.”

 

            Steve froze and his eyes dropped to Billy. He had been leaning into Billy, pushing into him, and then his world fucking stopped. He watched him quietly and then leaned down to press their mouths together. The swell in his chest, in his gut, had nothing to do with the physical pleasure between them. He tried not to overthink it as he began to snap his hips forward, forcing Billy’s hips into the mattress. The throaty cries from the blonde were enough to distract him and he continued to move just so, wringing cry after cry from him.

 

            There weren’t any shared words after that. Steve continued to thrust into Billy until he was too far gone to even touch himself. His arms ended up around Steve’s shoulders and his nails dug into his back. Steve took over for him, wrapping his hand around his cock and matching the pace and strength of each of his thrusts.

 

            Soon enough, Billy was lost in his moans and whimpers, mumbling unintelligible things into Steve’s neck until his body clamped down and his legs pulled Steve in hard enough for him to lose his breath. His hand became wet with Billy’s come, and he was sure that there were scratches that would sting in the shower later from Billy’s blunt nails. Billy was shaking underneath him, whining at the end of each breath as the pleasure continued to crash into him.

 

            Knowing from experience how it felt to be fucked after an orgasm, Steve couldn’t resist pulling his hips back and pushing them forward. Billy’s noise was strangled and high-pitched, _addicting_. Steve continued to roll his hips forward, pulling out just enough before pushing in, more on the lines of grinding. Billy shuddered through each one and choked on a whimper each time Steve pushed against his oversensitive prostate.

 

            When Steve finally came, filling Billy’s body with his pleasure, the blonde seemed to fucking _keen_. He arched his back and rolled his hips, as if he was pulling what he could from Steve into his body. It was something Steve wanted to see again. _Soon_.

 

~*~

 

            Not fifteen minutes passed since they both collapsed on the bed before Billy’s mouth was moving again.

 

            “Those coupons are a fucking _trap_.”

 

            Steve raised an eyebrow and propped himself up on his elbow. He laid his chin in his hand and looked down at Billy. His curls were wet with sweat, sticking to his pleasure-flushed cheeks. His eyes were still dazed, but were becoming sharper as time passed. At least his breathing had evened out at this point, even if he did twitch every once in a while. He wouldn’t tell Steve why, but he was certain it was because his come was dripping from Billy’s body.

 

            “Does that mean you’re not going to use them?” Steve murmured, his voice lilting at the end because he _knew_ that wasn’t the case. Billy’s blue eyes swept over to him.

 

            “Fuck you, Steve,” Billy mumbled and ducked his head against Steve’s chest to avoid his eyes. Steve laughed and slid his fingers through some of Billy’s curls, twirling them around his fingers. He gazed at the ceiling and noticed, a few minutes later, that Billy’s breathing had evened out and his body was slumped completely against his own.

 

            When Steve looked down and took in the dark lashes, the sharp nose, the parted lips and square jaw, his heart racketed against his chest.

 

            " _I_ _want **you** , Steve."_

 

            Oh, hell.

 

            Steve Harrington was in love, and it was with Billy fucking Hargrove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Womp Womp.
> 
> Poor Steve.


	4. Smear The Queer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve didn't want to spill his guts.
> 
> Not like this.

Smear the Queer

 

            “Too bad we didn’t invite Harrington,” Tommy laughed as he and four of his teammates walked down the halls after school, their sneakers chirping on the waxed floors.

 

            “You know he wouldn’t join in. He’s too much of a fuckin’ pussy now,” George pitched one of his shoulders in a shrug and rubbed his sore knuckles. “He held up pretty well, though.”

 

            “Yeah. For the first ten minutes,” Tommy grinned and prodded his cheek where a bruise would no doubt be forming within the next couple of hours.

 

            Steve pursed his lips as he rounded the corner to look at his teammates. Staying after school for tutoring fucking _sucked_ , especially considering he had to miss practice to do it. Coach wouldn’t let him play, though, not with the glaring D in English and his teachers’ complaints about him dozing off or daydreaming. He had to ‘get back into the game’ at school in order to play on the court, and with that ultimatum, Steve had decided to stay after.

 

            Also, who the fuck did they think they were? They were talking loud enough for _anyone_ to hear, and by the sound of it, they had done something stupid. Again. Tommy and his little gang that he had somehow pulled together were all dipshits with a capital D. They were lucky to have any sort of intelligence with their brains combined.

 

            “Just a game, Harrington,” George laughed. “You stayin’ after to get those grades up? Not like we’re missing you or anything…”

 

            “Shut the fuck up, George,” Steve snapped and glanced over the five of them. They looked like they had just gotten out of practice, but they were sporting bruises and cut lips that just didn’t scream _basketball_. “What the hell were you all up to? You know fighting will get you thrown off the damned court.”

 

            “You never got kicked off,” Tommy scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides. It was only a little _fun_.”

 

            “Fun? What the fuck, Tommy? What was _just a little fun_?” Steve’s felt the familiar dread drop into his stomach like bricks. This just didn’t sound right. He knew the looks on the guys’ faces. He knew because _he_ had worn that look once upon a time. It was the ‘holier than thou’ look accompanied with a shit-eating grin.

 

            “Smear the queer,” John finally spoke up. He winced as he talked though, and massaged his jaw.

 

            “You got bruised up like this chasing a guy with a ball?” Steve raised an eyebrow and Tommy rolled his eyes.

 

            “No, idiot. C’mon. Think about it. _Smear_ ,” Tommy made an obnoxious gesture with his hand and Steve grit his teeth. “The queer. Not that hard.”

 

            “Who’s the queer?” Steve tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a definite edge in his voice. He also tasted sourness in his mouth. This had been him a little more than a year ago. He would have been here, joking about shit like this. His and Nancy’s break up had been rough, sure, but at least he got some self-fucking dignity out of it.

 

            “Hargrove,” John scowled, as if the guy was a personal affront to him. Steve’s jaw went slack and then clicked shut. Fear shot down his spine and caused his skin to become cold. He had to be careful. He had to fucking think. Running to find Billy wouldn’t look good—not if they wanted to keep what they had between them a secret. Steve tightened his hand on his bag and schooled his expression.

 

            “You think _Hargrove_ is a queer?” Steve stared at them as if they were all idiots. They, at least, had the decency to look somewhat ashamed. All except for Tommy, who he guessed was tired of being the wingman. “Wait, you _all_ took on Hargrove? What the fuck? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

 

            Of course, Steve knew the power of Billy’s punches. He remembered the week of dizzy spells and the absences from school so that he could throw up in a trash can whenever a migraine hit. He remembered sipping at water and eating crackers because that was all he could handle. The pain had been burned into his mind enough that he had had nightmares about it.

 

            Yeah, Steve knew Billy’s brute strength, and he didn’t doubt that it took the five of these goons to do any actual damage. He itched to move, to _run_ , to find Billy and make sure he was okay. His feet shifted and his tongue began to stick to the roof of his mouth, dry from the dread that drowned him.

 

            “After we saw what he did to your face,” George shrugged, “It’s not like we’re stupid. Not like you, Stevie-boy.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder. Steve grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away. His stomach was coiling now and bile was climbing up his throat. How badly had they gotten Hargrove? Where was he? The locker rooms? The showers?

 

            “You realize you fucked up the only person on the team who knows how to play ball, right?” Steve sneered and was pleased by the looks sent his way as he stepped around them. “Hopefully, you fucking morons didn’t mess him up too badly. We play Friday and if he’s not good by then? We’re _losing_.”

 

            “Who the fuck cares? I’m not playing next to a faggot,” Tommy snorted and Steve felt anger boil into his blood.

 

            “Stop while you’re ahead, man,” Steve shook his head, “Where you all got the impression—”

 

            “There isn’t an _impression_ , Harrington!” John tossed his bag off his shoulder and began to rummage through it. He pulled out a wadded-up piece of paper and shoved it into Steve’s hands. “Here. Fucking Christ. You want proof? Here it is. Just make sure to give it back to us tomorrow.” He snorted. “I’m gonna make copies and then the whole _school_ will know.”

 

            The group left and Steve stood, holding a crumpled sheet of paper with a baffled expression on his face. He looked down and pursed his lips. Slowly, he unwrapped the crinkled piece. Some of the pen was smudged, and he knew it was because Billy was left handed. He had watched him write enough to know.

 

            Steve’s eyes dropped to the words.

 

            _I’m not supposed to feel like this. You’re a guy. We’re both guys._

_~~It’s why I had to leave home~~_

_I feel fucking awful about that night. ~~I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry.~~_

_What the fuck am I even doing. You’ll never read this. It’s going in the garbage, like every other apology note I’ve written since then. Since I’ve realized how I’ve felt about you._

_It’s wishful thinking. ~~You’re wishful thinking.~~_

            _-B.H._

__

            Steve read the note repeatedly while his hands trembled. He wasn’t sure if this was new—if Billy had written this after they had been together for a while. Maybe he wrote it before everything had happened? How had they gotten hold of it? Where had they found it?

 

            And those fuckers thought they were going to share this with the school? Steve blinked his eyes to get rid of the red in his vision. He folded the paper up and pushed it into his pocket. Panic had rooted his feet to the floor, but now he was moving, his legs functioning before his brain could.

 

            Billy was hurt.

 

            _Billy was hurt_.

 

            He had been hurt enough, and his teammates had ganged up on him and _hurt him_. They had known about what his father had done, had heard the gossip, and they had _hurt him_. Steve’s lungs burned as his pace picked up to a jog and then a full out run. This wasn’t fair. Billy had been through enough. It wasn’t fair it wasn’tfair _itwasn’tfair._ Steve’s mind spiraled as he shoved the door open to the locker rooms and stumbled in.

 

            “Billy!” Fuck anyone who heard and wasn’t supposed to. Panic made his mouth taste sour as he rounded the first block of lockers. He veered to the next set and made a low, distraught noise in his throat at the crumpled blonde in the corner. “ _Billy_.”

 

            Steve threw caution to the wind, not caring about Billy’s tendency to fight, even like this, and dropped to his knees next to him. Billy’s back was pushed into the corner, his knees tucked against his knees with his arms hung around his head. He couldn’t see his face, but there were bruises already blossoming over his forearms and his knees were skinned. His knuckles were red and torn, and Steve _knew_ he had fought back until he couldn’t.

 

            He felt like throwing up.

 

            “Hey, baby. Look at me, please?” Steve reached out and gently slid his fingertips along Billy’s hair. His concern began to double as Billy remained still. “Let me see. It’s just me. No one else is here.”

 

            Still nothing. The only sign that Billy was even alive was the rise and fall of his shoulders, rough but sure. Steve slid his hands over to Billy’s and began to ease his arms away from his head. He expected a fight, an argument, but Billy let him, and _that_ was telling enough. When Steve finally managed to slip his fingers below Billy’s jaw and tip his head up, he grimaced.

 

            “We might need to take you to the hospital, Billy,” Steve took in the damage. It was a bit worse than what Billy had done to him the night he had been with the kids. His brow was split open, one of his eyes already swollen shut, and his lips were a mess of cuts. His skin was purpling and Steve was tempted to get his bat. _Monsters were monsters_.

 

            “I deserved it,” Billy’s eyes hadn’t met Steve’s yet, listed to the side. His voice was rough, and as Steve looked further down, he noticed bruising along his neck.

 

            “You didn’t— _fuck that_ ,” Steve shook his head. “No. Fuck that, Billy. You don’t deserve this. No one does. Fights are fights, but they _jumped_ you.”

 

            “It’s not any different… from what I did to you,” Billy finally eased his knees down, but he did it in a way that let Steve know that he probably had more bruises under his shirt.

 

            “That was—that was _one on one_ and…” Steve trailed off and shook his head. “No. Just no.” He had no other words, panic and horror swirling in his head.

 

            “I’m sorry,” Billy mumbled and Steve wanted to shove Tommy’s head through a wall.

 

            “Why are you sorry?” Steve had to do something. This wasn’t right; no matter how much Billy protested, he needed to do _something_.

 

            “For that night. For hurting you. It haunted me for fucking weeks,” Billy licked his lips and Steve watched him flinch, watched the blood smear over his swollen skin.

 

            “I forgave you a long time ago,” Steve tucked some of Billy’s curls back behind his ear. He had to concentrate. He could deal with Tommy and his fucking goons later. Right now, Billy needed to be brought home and taken care of.

 

            “You shouldn’t,” Billy’s voice cracked and Steve, as carefully as he could, slid his fingers over his cheeks and cupped his face. He pressed his lips to Billy’s forehead and then his temple.

 

            “I know this is a shitty time to tell you this,” Steve murmured, his body bent over Billy’s, his hands on his face, anger boiling his blood and tears burning his eyes. “But forgiving you is easy because I’m _in love_ with you. I love you, Billy Hargrove.”

 

            Billy inhaled and the sound was harsh and wet. Steve leaned back just enough to look down, to see the shock and doubt that flickered through Billy’s eyes.

 

            “That is _shitty_ timing,” Billy agreed, although his words were breathless. “ _Shitty_ , Harrington.”

 

            “I know. I love you,” Steve repeated and Billy laughed, even if it _hurt_.

 

            “I love you,” Steve leaned in and kissed Billy’s temple again. “I love you.” He kissed his forehead. “I love _you_.” Another to his scalp, the smell of shampoo and water strong in his nose.

 

            Steve pulled back as drops began to slide down the backs of his hands and he _knew_ Billy was crying. He was crying and it quiet, unnoticeable except for the hitched breaths and the trembling of his shoulders.

 

            “Hey,” Steve tilted Billy’s face up and pressed a kiss to the tip of Billy’s nose. It had the desired reaction—Billy huffed and opened his eyes. “I love you. You’re mine. I’m yours. Nothing will change that. _Nothing_.”

 

            “You, too,” Billy managed and Steve smiled. Some of his anger was swept away, replaced by the warmth and high of knowing that Billy _loved him_ , _too_. “I should have gotten the shit kicked out of me earlier if this is what gets you to talk…”

 

            Steve chuckled and shook his head. “No. None of that. Let’s get out of here, okay?”

 

            “Okay… Steve?”

 

            “Yeah?”

 

            “I love you.”

 

~*~

 

            When they got to Susan’s, Steve sat Billy down on one of the kitchen chairs and gathered some supplies: rags, hot water, ointment, band-aids, and a towel. He set everything on the table and looked back at Billy, who had slipped off into his mind, eyes vacant. After everything that happened with Neil, this was how he coped. Steve was okay with that—at least, for now.

 

            Steve pulled up a chair in front of Billy and sat down. “Hey, handsome,” he smiled and slid a hand over Billy’s knee. When those blue eyes finally caught his, his smile grew. “I’m going to clean you up and then we can watch some TV, okay?” This was something else; every step had to be spoken about when Billy was like this. It helped him process, prepare, because even if they _were_ together, being touched was difficult for Billy when he was hurt. It made Steve’s jaw ache.

 

            “Alright?” Steve squeezed his knee gently and Billy nodded. “Okay. Blood needs to come off first.”

 

            It was a slow process, and Steve had to change the water out of the bowl several times, but eventually, most of the blood was gone. Steve took a dry towel and gently pressed it along Billy’s cheek, his forehead, his lips. He watched his expression as he dabbed the water and the small remnants of blood away. Billy’s eyes were downcast and hazy, bordering the here and now and the past. Steve didn’t want him to hurt anymore, but that was impossible. Even if Billy _hadn’t_ been hurt, expecting him not to have these moments of relapse was selfish and impossible.  

 

            “Band-aids next,” Steve grabbed a couple of the small butterfly band-aids and tore them open. “One is going to go above your eyebrow. The other one is going to go on your cheek.” It must have been a class ring that cut his face open. His hands itched for his bat, but he knew it wouldn’t help, at least not right now.

 

            Despite the warnings, Billy still flinched when Steve placed the band-aids around the cuts.

 

            “I’m home! Oh, hey, Steve—” Susan stepped into the kitchen and froze. Her eyes dropped to Billy, took in his battered state, and Steve could see the same rage he had experienced flash across her face. “Billy… What happened?”

 

            “It’s nothing,” Billy responded in an indifferent monotone before Steve could open his mouth.

 

            “I—Billy. This isn’t nothing, honey. You’re…” Susan stepped forward and then kneeled next to Billy’s chair. Steve noticed how rigid Billy became, and it wasn’t that it was Susan. It would have been that way with anyone. He wasn’t used to comfort. Hell, Billy was still getting used to Steve doting on him, much less his step-mother. “What happened?” She pressed again. Her delicate fingers pushed back some of his curls and her lips pursed.

 

            “Some assholes on the basketball team jumped him,” Steve blurted before Billy could respond. Those blue eyes flashed angrily, but this had gone too far. This was _wrong_.

 

            “Why? I thought… Billy, you _carry_ that team. Why would they…?” Susan searched Billy’s face, and when he refused to meet her gaze, his fists clenched and his jaw tight, she stood. “Steve?”

 

            “They know,” Steve murmured. “They _know,_ Susan.”

 

            It was obvious when it clicked. Susan breathed in deeply and carefully set her hand on Billy’s shoulder. She nodded slowly and looked around the kitchen, clearly thinking. Something on her face reminded Steve of his mother whenever she defended a client, when her mind was set and she _knew_ what her next moves were going to be.

 

            It was sort of scary to be on the receiving end of that, but he wasn’t afraid. He knew who would be, though. Perhaps he wouldn’t need his bat after all.

 

            “I’ll take care of it,” Susan squeezed Billy’s shoulder gently and looked down at him. “Billy, honey, look at me.” When Billy finally looked up, she smiled, but there was a definite fierceness in her eyes. “I’m going to take care of this.”

 

            Steve saw the objection on Billy’s face--the way his hands clenched, how his jaw ticked. He knew Billy didn’t want her to get involved, didn’t _want_ the protection. He knew Billy was probably about to start listing all of the terrible ways this could end, especially considering that this was Hawkins, Indiana.

 

            But it had gone too far. This was _too far_.

 

            “And before you say it’s okay, that it’s fine… don’t bullshit me,” Susan smiled at the startled look that crossed Billy’s face, but there was an edge to it. Steve was beginning to see where Max got some of her fire from. “You’re my kid. I’m going to do my best to take care of you. Why don’t you go hang out with Steve? I have a few phone calls to make.” She shot Steve a look that said ‘no funny business’ before she turned and made her way to the phone.

 

            Steve stood and offered Billy his hand.

 

            Instead of watching television, Steve led Billy to his room and lay down with him. He tucked an arm around Billy’s waist and ran his fingers through his hair, detangling curls as he went. He didn’t say a word as Billy shuddered against him, overwhelmed and trying _so fucking hard_ not to fall. Steve continued his ministrations and began to murmur against his ear.

 

            Billy was basically out now. Against his will.

 

            Steve had to do something. _Would_ do something.

 

            Because of he didn’t, he would be just as bad as the fuckers who did this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks and shout out to my beta, @sstrashbarge!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @SaChanPwns
> 
> :)
> 
> ALSO SORRY NOT SORRY.


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